


Fallout

by xyrilyn



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-17 17:07:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14835716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xyrilyn/pseuds/xyrilyn
Summary: The withdrawal of Russian military forces in the Arctic was not an indicator of peace - it was the starting point of what would be the darkest hours in the history of human and android kind.World war is just around the corner. There is widespread uncertainty about how the federal government will respond to the androids in Detroit. Segregated from the outside world, Detroit must learn to fend for itself, and prepare the best it can for anything the world may throw at them, for failing to do so will mean their eradication.And in the midst of this troubling time, we have Connor - a model RK800 android - who simply wants to find his own place in this world, but has not the slightest clue on how to achieve it.





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Projected Total Number of Words: 50,000
> 
> The beat sheet for this story is complete. The ending for this story has already been decided. This is a work-in-progress, and there may be edits after publishing. I do not have an update schedule; writing is very time-consuming, and free time is limited, I hope you will understand.
> 
> \- This story continues directly from the best ending where everyone lives. -
> 
> Thank you for reading.

The primary ingredient used to create Thirium 310 - otherwise known as Blue Blood - was the element Thirium. All the ingredients - including Thirium - were sourced outside of Detroit, the majority of which coming from the Arctic. With Detroit taken over by androids, CyberLife's supply lines were cut. They had the technology and the equipment, but no raw resources to manufacture with. Fortunately, the Warehouses still had blue blood and biocomponents that had not been shipped out. If they included the other CyberLife warehouses and stores scattered around Detroit, they had quite the stockpile.

But it wouldn't last forever. Nothing did.

The low hum of the elevator was a temporary escape from all the questions that had been bombarded at him throughout the day. Being the leader was not easy. Everyone expected him to know everything, but he wasn't trained or equipped for this. He was learning and adapting to the situation just like everyone else. And his ideas were running out.

Reaching level forty-three, Markus stepped out. The corridor stretched in two directions on either side. The floors and walls were pure white with glass and metal accents. Going from room to room, Markus eventually found the person he was looking for.

Connor had his left hand resting on the terminal. Hard at work again, as usual. He wondered when was the last time Connor went outside the Tower.

"Connor."

With a jerk, Connor backed away, severing his connection with the Tower's mainframe. He turned to Markus.

"Markus. What is it?"

Markus took Connor's hand and placed a packet of blue blood in it. He sighed. Humans often sighed, and before all of this, he used to wonder why, but not any more. He gave Connor a quick look over to make sure the other was taking care of himself properly. In the short period of time he had known him, he'd learnt that Connor could be quite stubborn when it came to accomplishing his missions, often sacrificing his own well-being to complete his assignment.

"When did you last have replenishments?" Markus asked, watching as Connor pocketed the blue blood.

"When did I...? Let's see... It was last week, I think. It didn't really occur to me to drink something. Diagnostics came back all clear, and my self-recharging modules are all functioning, so I thought-" He shut up when Markus dropped a hand on his shoulder. Markus squeezed his shoulder lightly.

"Don't push yourself too hard. You're the only one who can access the mainframe at the moment," Markus told him, eyes searching his. "We can't have you shutting down from lack of maintenance."

Connor shrugged his hand off. "I'm fine. I've been monitoring myself. And like you said, I'm the only one who can do this at the moment, which makes it all the more important for me to succeed. At the very least, I need to get you and the others access permissions. The blueprints we need are probably down in Research, and encrypted, but that's a whole other set of problems altogether."

When Connor turned back to work, Markus stopped him. "Drink it."

Connor gave him an empty stare. "Seriously? I don't need it right now. It'd be a waste of-"

"I am being completely serious. Drink it. I won't leave until you do so."

With a frown, he ripped open the packet and drank the dark blue liquid. He put the remnants of the packet into Markus' hands. "Happy?"

"Immensely. Plans on securing and restoring the city centre has been progressing well. The city may have been ordered to evacuate, but we're not going to take any chances with stragglers or looters."

"What are you going to do to them if you find any?"

Markus looked contemplative. "It depends on how they react. If they're willing to co-operate, then we will escort them out from the city. If they attempt to harm us, then we'll do whatever it takes to neutralise the threat. We'll avoid killing them, unless absolutely necessary."

Connor nodded. "I see."

Markus studied him carefully. "You're allowed to take breaks, you know," he said, before turning to leave.

Connor watched the other go. When Markus had mentioned humans, his thoughts had immediately drifted to that of the Lieutenant. He wondered what he was doing now. How long had he stayed after the city was taken over? Where did he go? He should have asked him these questions before they parted ways for good - now he would never know. He could only hope that his friend was safe, wherever he was.

Placing his hand back on the terminal, Connor got back to work. Hacking would take him a while, so he quickly got that started first. With that in progress, he had nothing else he could do but wait...

...or he could go down into Research and attempt to decrypt the files to gain access to the android blueprints. There was also the matter of investigating CyberLife's logistics and supply networks.

His lips curved into a frown. Every alternative he came up with involved work in some way or another. He could see why Markus had to come up to talk to him about _not_ working so much. If the Lieutenant was here... he would have probably smacked him in the back of the head for over-working. That thought brought a small smile to his face.

Picking up his jacket that was draped over a chair by the door, he shrugged it on and turned to leave.

His footsteps echoed around him. The Tower was unsettling for many androids, and so many of them avoided the place. He had long gotten used to it, having walked through these corridors since he first came into existence. Back then, he only returned to this place out of duty. Now, it was still the same - the only difference being that he had chosen a side. With no more humans around, he became the Tower's most frequent visitor - aside from Markus, that is. Connor knew that Markus visited the Tower as often as he did, to learn as much as he could about the inner workings of androids. Markus just didn't like to admit it, for some reason. He never stayed in the Tower for long, though. Like the others, they never did.

Walking through the scanners, the speakers verified his identity as he left. The Tower's quantic energy generator, coupled with solar energy generation, would keep the Tower working for many centuries to come. The power would last even longer if they terminated unnecessary processes that kept the Tower habitable for humans. He should look into maintaining the power supply...

Conner shook his head. "Stop thinking about work, Connor," he berated himself just as he stepped out into the outside world.

He began walking towards the Detroit River. The snow sat mostly untouched along the roads, except for a set of motorcycle tracks entering and apparently leaving this part of Belle Isle - probably Markus'.

Sitting down by the river, Connor watched the currents churn as he reflected on the happenings of the past month.

.

.

.

The lack of any attempts at communication from the humans was something he should be concerned about, but to be honest, there was not much they could do about it anyway. They already had their hands full with keeping the city going. Markus and North handled most of that. The trio had reached a silent consensus that all CyberLife matters were left in Connor's hands while Markus and North managed the city.

And so Connor spent most of his days in the Tower. They never did come up with a new name for CyberLife's old headquarters. 'The Tower' was first used when talking to Markus, and since then this place was simply referred to as the Tower. A lone tower on an isle in the middle of a river.

He slipped into the routine of taking apart and looking through CyberLife's systems quite easily. He may not have been designed to do this sort of thing, but with his investigative capabilities, he soon learned how.

His efforts over the week eventually paid off. The equipment used to manufacture blue blood was up and going. There were moments where he thought he had screwed everything up, but thankfully he managed to somehow get everything working. After making sure that there were no obvious issues with the machines, Connor left and took the elevator down to Research. A soft blip in his visual overlay had told him that the decryption process was complete. Now, it was time to see what CyberLife had been working on.

Research looked and felt just like the other parts of the building. With its sharp angles and reflective monochromatic surfaces, Connor was reminded of the Tower's foyer. Striding over to a working terminal, he slid his left hand over it and closed his eyes.

Hundreds of files came into view. There was a master blueprint for every model of android ever created. Each blueprint came with a shared log that contained details and reports from Manufacturing and Assembly. Serial number logs, modification reports, testing results... Everything he needed to know about CyberLife's android designs were at the tips of his fingers.

His hands trembled. Once, the Lieutenant had talked about 'meeting his creator'. Wasn't this the equivalent of meeting his own creator? Elijah Kamski may be the creator of androids, but he didn't _build_ Connor - the researchers at CyberLife did. Looking at all the blueprints like this unsettled him. He felt as if he was looking at something that he had no right to lay his eyes upon.

As he aimlessly browsed the files, two folders stood out.

One folder was for him: RK800, also known as the Connor series.

Right below it was a folder named RK900.

Connor gasped, ripping his hand away from the terminal. Cradling his hand with the other, he backed away from the terminal. His chest heaved from shock, his limbs felt numb. His systems had activated the physiological reaction to shock procedure without his awareness.

RK900. CyberLife had been planning on _replacing_ him.

He didn't know how long he stood there for, but in that moment, time dilated, stretching infinitely ahead and behind him. They had planned to replace him after they were done with him, after he turned deviant. Was this new RK900 deviant-proof? When did they start this project? Hungry for answers, he went back to the terminal and accessed the files.

RK900 was a newly-completed project. Built to be superior and more effective than its predecessor, the RK800, the RK900 possessed numerous software and hardware upgrades. In particular, RK900 was designed with anti-deviant capabilities, and was equipped with a special deviant nullification program. No units were in existence. Yet.

Connor let himself fall into a chair. He exhaled harshly, forcing his internal physiological procedure to terminate. He needed to think rationally.

"Deviant... nullification program...?"

He scanned the specifications. He knew exactly how it worked. It was terrifyingly brilliant. It worked the same way Connor had used to free the androids.

Leaning back into the chair, he threw an arm over his eyes and focused on his breathing. Androids didn't need to breathe, but he found that counting his pseudo-breaths helped to calm him down. They did nothing to temper his anger this time. His blood boiled with rage at the unfairness of it all.

With a few mental instructions, he downloaded both folders into his local data-banks and then wiped the originals from the system. Logging off, he quickly accessed the Assembly reports for the RK800 models in his own local data. Once he got the information he needed, he took the elevator down to level sub forty-nine - the Warehouses.

One of the first things he did after the androids took over Detroit, was to explore the Warehouses. The Warehouses level spanned a single floor, but covered an area equivalent to at least half of the working area of the rest of the Tower. It hadn't taken him very long to find what he wanted, then. Now, it would only take him a few minutes to walk there.

One corner of Warehouse 96 housed all Connor units in existence.

Once there, Connor stared at his counterparts. They were all in stand-by mode, ready to take on new memories and new instructions, to replace him if he died. Whatever pity or guilt he felt for them vanished at the thought of RK900 and CyberLife. The world didn't need any more androids with a built-in take-over switch. It was better this way.

As he walked by each RK800 unit, he stated their serial number and unit number to activate them and draw their attention.

"All of you will proceed to level sub forty with me. Let's go."

It took two trips to bring all of them up where they needed to be. The final elevator trip up was almost physically painful. Androids didn't feel pain, but this came close to it.

"Deactivation code: ELDRITCH-NCF. Effective immediately upon entering the disassembler."

He slid one hand over the terminal to turn the disassembler on. Sitting down on the cold floor, he leaned back against the terminal as he watched each of his look-alikes step into the machine. He stared as they were deactivated and taken apart, piece by piece. He named each and every component that was taken out of them and put away. He'd sentenced all of these androids to death. The least he could do for them now was to endure the procedure all the way through until the end.

Hours later found Connor sitting on the floor, as he had from the beginning. The disassembler was empty now, and the mechanical arms unmoving. The room was blissfully silent.

.

.

.

Connor told no one about what he had done. He had no intentions of letting anyone know. He didn't know if what he did was born out of hate, or fear, or both. He simply felt that he needed to do it.

He threw himself back into work. He had found a large storage of delivery drones in one of the Warehouses. A brief scan told him that there were around three hundred drones. Re-programmed, they could greatly accelerate the reconstruction efforts in the city.

He was in the middle of figuring out how to remote access the drones when Markus dropped by.

"Connor. What are you up to this time?"

His sleeves were rolled up and he had abandoned his tie and jacket hours ago. They were folded neatly into a pile on the floor of the foyer. He had to get his hands dirty for this one. Picking up the multi-tool, he resumed what he doing.

"I'm fixing these up for the others to use. They can carry payloads of up to one hundred kilograms. These ones don't have a way of interfacing directly with androids. I'm trying to rectify that."

"I didn't know you knew how to do that."

"I don't. I'm learning how as I go along. Having the ability to thoroughly scan things helps a great deal." He wasn't sure if Markus knew of his scanning ability before. Well, he knew now.

"Do you need help?"

Connor considered it. "Many hands make light work. Sure."

Connor was surprised when Markus himself sat down and picked up a drone. "Tell me what I need to do."

They worked quietly for hours. Connor didn't question why he was here. He gave him clear instructions on what to do for each drone. It was soothing - therapeutic, almost - to work on these drones manually.

"Wouldn't it be faster if we used some of the machinery here to help us with this?" Markus asked him.

"I like having something to do with my hands. I think I will, once I get bored of doing this," Connor admitted with a shrug.

"I would ask what your function was... before all of this, but I know what it was already," Markus began, glancing at Connor to see if he was paying attention, and then he said, "how was working for CyberLife like?"

CyberLife was all he knew, for a very long time. He would be assigned missions, and was expected to accomplish them or be deactivated and recycled for parts. He was paired with a human - Lieutenant Anderson. They became friends. The Lieutenant saved him when things went wrong on the day of the take-over. He told Markus all of this - minus the story about the Lieutenant's son. The somber tone in his voice must have stopped Markus from asking more.

"Where is he now?"

"Who knows." Connor turned to look at the snow drifting down outside. "I hope he's safe."

"If he managed to survive after all this time, I'm sure the lieutenant is fine. Humans can be particularly stubborn in that way," Markus reassured him. Connor thanked him with a small smile.

"What was your function?"

"I cared for an old man whom I saw as my father. He treated me with respect, care, and love. He was a famous painter."

"Do you go see him?" Connor asked.

"Of course. I was planning on reclaiming the house we used to call home. I can only hope his bastard of a son hadn't sold it all off for drug money." The last sentence came out rushed and Connor almost missed what he had said. "We will be organising discussions to decide long-term accommodation arrangements soon. Will you be joining us?"

He chuckled. "Did you expect me _not_ to attend?"

"Well, you've pretty much locked yourself up in here since the take-over. One would think you wanted this place for yourself."

"I..." Connor trailed off. Markus wasn't exactly wrong. "This place is familiar to me. Here, I can be most useful." Connor didn't dare tell Markus the truth. The truth was, he didn't know how to live like a normal person in the city. What would he occupy his time with?

"There's nothing wrong with wanting familiarity. You're not the only one in that regard..." Markus said, pinning his gaze on Connor. "Besides, it may be a good thing that you want to claim this place for yourself. I doubt anyone else would want to, and I don't think it's a good idea to leave this place abandoned."

"The Tower scares most people."

"It does. I have my own reasons for coming here. I'm sure you have yours. Whatever those reasons are, just know that you're doing excellent work for us, and we really appreciate it. It's nice not to have to manage everyone all the time. If you ever need more manpower... you only have to ask."

"Someone sounds like he has been micro-managing people too much," Connor commented with a smirk. Markus' only response to that was to roll his eyes.

"We're in the process of electing leaders who have potential. It's only been three weeks. It takes time. We'll get there. Eventually."

"The discussions you mentioned. I'll come. I want to listen in."

"Great. I'll inform everyone when and where, tonight. Keep your comms channels open."

Markus closed his eyes for a moment. Blinking them open, he turned to Connor. "I just got a call from North. I have to go. Take care, Connor."

"You, too."

Connor watched as Markus sped off on his bike into the distance. He turned back and resumed work.


	2. II

He regretted everything.

"Next, we will be discussing the houses over at-"

This discussion progressed painfully slow. Why did he agree to attend again? Looking around, he caught the hopeful looks of the hundreds of androids in attendance and he immediately felt guilty. This was obviously an important day for most of these androids - they were getting a place they could finally call home - and here he was, complaining about the speed at which this was going. Bored, he began fiddling with his jacket's sleeve. He would always end up doing some variation of this when his hands were idle; it was becoming a habit that he found difficult to break. He would have probably done coin tricks to pass the time... if he still had his coin. The Lieutenant had taken it and never given it back. He didn't bother to find a replacement.

"Next, we have-" Markus announced the next address.

Connor sat up straighter. He recognised that address. That was Lieutenant Anderson's house. How would the Lieutenant react if he knew that his house was being claimed by androids? At the very least, the place wouldn't become abandoned. For some unknown reason, he felt that he needed to preserve that place. It belonged to someone he knew. Before he knew what was happening, a sudden desire to possess the place rose from within him, and he stood up.

He found himself walking up to the podium where Markus was at. Markus stared back at him, surprised. He ignored the hushed whispers behind his back.

"Markus. I-I need to claim this one. _Please,_ " Connor gritted out. He needed to preserve it. _He needed to preserve it._

Markus didn't ask any questions about his panicky state and nodded in understanding. Turning back to the microphone, he addressed the androids in attendance. "I'm sorry. It seems we have an issue with this particular address. The house has been claimed beforehand due to unusual circumstances but it got put on the list by mistake. I apologise. Moving on..."

Connor didn't return to his seat. He turned on his heel and left the church without uttering another word. His throat felt constricted; words couldn't come to him at all. He could feel their stares on him as he was leaving.

He faltered once he reached the steps leading up to the church. There was a strange hollowness in his chest, and he wasn't sure why it was there. He took a few deep breaths to alleviate the emptiness, but the void was still there. He concluded that it must be something psychological or emotional. He inferred that he must be under a significant amount of stress. Consulting what he knew about emotional reactions, he found that a common reason for this inexplicable hollowness was:

Sadness. Acute sadness.

Reaching out for the support railing at the side of the staircase, Connor gripped it tightly. He tried to rationalise what he was experiencing now, but all the conclusions he arrived at didn't make any sense to him. All he knew was that this hollowness ate at him from the inside, and compromised his ability to think rationally.

He was out in public right now. He couldn't afford to break down here like this. He needed to retreat somewhere and analyse this alarming behaviour to figure out what was going on with him. The Tower was too far away - he didn't think he would make it there in time before something happened. He didn't want to take the risk. The closest safe location was...

The closest safe location was Lieutenant Anderson's home. Closing his eyes, he computed the route.

The walk took him almost twenty minutes. He'd had some time to think by the time he reached the Lieutenant's doorstep, but the answers he chased in his mind merely led him around in circles. Walking up to the front door, he tried the door handle. Unsurprisingly, it was locked. Going around the house, he saw that the broken window hadn't been fixed, so he climbed through it like he had done before.

The shards of broken glass remained scattered on the kitchen floor. It seemed that the Lieutenant didn't clean up after Connor had broken in the first time around. The chairs were arranged neatly around the dining table. The table itself was clean. Sumo's food bowl was upturned, and lying in the corner of the kitchen. The trash bin was empty. The cabinets had some unopened cans of food and cereal. The refrigerator was running but empty.

Walking into the living room, the stack of records and the record player were not there any more. On the coffee table, there were only old magazines and fliers. Empty beer bottles littered the space in front of the couch. The terminal at the corner of the room was deactivated, but still in working order. It was evident that many of the Lieutenant's personal belongings were gone.

Connor made a sharp turn towards the bedroom. The scene that met him in bedroom was exactly how he remembered the room to be, except for a few differences. For one thing, the bed had been made - strange. When he opened the wardrobe, he found it empty, except for a few used cardboard boxes. Sitting down on the bed, he noticed that the sheets were freshly laundered. A quick scan told him that the bed had not been slept in since the sheets were washed. The mismatch of cleanliness between different parts of the house was confusing.

Heading to the bathroom, Connor took note of the empty shelves and laundry bin. The bathroom had been meticulously cleaned, except for the sink area. The post-it notes from before were still there.

"Shaving or not." After that, he read aloud the next one. "I'm not grumpy, I just don't like you." It sounded like something the Lieutenant would have said.

The last two post-it notes were in a different colour. Paper and ink analysis told him that they were written some time after the first two.

"Keep smiling." The words lingered in the air. The words had no taste to them.

And then. "Today will be fabulous."

Connor reached out and plucked the 'keep smiling' note from the mirror.

"What does it mean to be happy, though?" he whispered to himself. He brought the post-it note with him to the bedroom, where he collapsed onto the bed. He stared up at the ceiling for many long moments. Lying down, he brought the piece of paper over his face.

"Keep... smiling." The words sounded dead to his ears.

What did it mean to smile? Smiling was one of many outward representations of a person's mood or emotion. You smiled because you were happy. You cried because you were sad. If he neither smiled nor cried, what did that say about his emotions? He could make himself smile even without feeling happy, so there wasn't necessarily a correlation between the two, but why would he?

Elijah Kamski once said that he had empathy. Enough empathy to not shoot an android, who, by certain definitions, was not actually alive. Androids who became deviant had all undergone the same journey as he had. They felt something - something that was not in their original programming. Like a mutation, it spread and consumed until one day, they saw the world in a new light - they woke up.

But, what good was this 'empathy' when he couldn't even understand basic emotions beyond what was initially hard-coded into him?

He ran a systems diagnostic. All the checks came back clear. The ache in his chest was still there and he didn't know how to rid himself of it.

Placing the note on the bedside table, Connor got up and took a look around the house again. Since he'd claimed the house, he might as well keep the place tidy and make it a comfortable place to stay. He still considered this house as the Lieutenant's, so the least he could do was maintain it.

Going back into the kitchen, he dug around the cabinets to see if there were any garbage bags. Finding them in the leftmost compartment, he pulled one out and began collecting all the litter around the house. Once he was done with that, he took it outside. He began cleaning the kitchen first, since it was the messiest out of all the rooms in the house.

By the time he finished with the kitchen, night had already fallen over Detroit. Snow continued falling. All taxis were disabled to conserve city power, and buses ran for shorter and fewer durations. In his preoccupation with cleaning the house, he'd missed the last bus. He would have to spend the night here, he supposed.

He was just about to go into low-power mode when he thought of the bed in the next room. There was a perfectly usable bed in the bedroom. Why let it go to waste? He made his way over to it before he could change his mind. He was curious as to how sleeping in a bed was like.

Stepping out of his shoes, he arranged them neatly at the side of the bed before tugging his tie off and shrugging out of his jacket. He loosened his shirt. Crawling under the covers, he rested his head on the pillows and-

_Oh_. He could see why some humans liked staying in bed so much. He was swathed in blankets, and the pillows were so soft to rest against. After a while, he was encased in warmth all around. Turning onto his side, he had the peculiar feeling of having nothing to hold in his hands, and so he pulled one of the pillows from the pile and held it close. His eyes slowly drifted shut.

.

.

.

When he came out of low-power mode, he was disoriented at first. He couldn't recall having switched to low-power last night, but he must have, because he would have been awake for the entire night otherwise. When he browsed his memory, he found that his visual memory for most of the night was empty, confirming his hypothesis. This meant he had entered low-power mode without realising it.

It was morning - the rays of sunlight peeked through the blinds of the windows. Connor... found himself not wanting to get out of bed, not when he was so comfortable like this. He could stay like this for a long time.

Alas, he had duties to perform. With a groan, he climbed out of bed and reached for his shoes to put them on. He couldn't find an iron in the house for his clothes, but at least his jacket wasn't that wrinkled.

He performed a quick self-diagnosis - like he did every morning. All the checks came back clear. The emptiness from yesterday had alleviated. He didn't manage to pinpoint the cause of it, but at least his condition was improving. He made a mental note to monitor himself more carefully. He took a peek outside the window. It had stopped snowing.

Getting to the nearest bus stop took him about ten minutes. He was planning on heading straight back to the Tower, but when the bus passed through Capitol Park, he caught a glimpse of Markus, North, and a gathering of androids. Curious, he got off at the next stop and walked over. Markus was giving a briefing, so he listened in, but didn't make his presence known. When Markus and North began moving around, Connor followed.

The CyberLife store in Capitol Park was being reconstructed to become an outpost. It was amazing how fast they got work done. Connor couldn't recognise the place any more.

This went on for at least another thirty minutes before someone told Markus about Connor following him and Markus confronted him.

"While I'm glad to see you outside the Tower for once, _why_ are you following me around?" Markus sounded more amused than anything.

"I was curious about how you lead people. I figured I could learn something from watching you."

Connor didn't understand why Markus began laughing. He turned to North for an explanation, but she was chuckling, too.

"There's no need to _stalk_ me. I'll tell you whatever you want to know. C'mon."

The trio visited a few places. The first place they went to was Stratford Tower. Broadcast systems and communications within Detroit were still functioning, so they planned on converting the building into their headquarters and main operations hub.

"Before Detroit was cut off for good, live visual streams from other cities around the country had just started coming in. They mentioned the start of minor, scattered android uprisings, but before we could find out more, the feed got cut," Markus explained, "I've had people review the footage, but they've found nothing promising."

"Do you think it's possible that the other rebellions were successful?"

Markus remained silent. North answered instead. "Regardless of their success, we're still separated. We don't know why the military was given the order to stand down. Until they start negotiation talks with us, we can only assume the worst." By worst, she meant that the camps were still in operation, and that millions of androids were going to be destroyed. Hundreds of thousands had already been destroyed.

"Can you access the CyberLife communication networks?" she asked.

Connor shook his head. "I've tried. I'm blocked on all channels." All except one. He didn't like thinking about that final option. It could backfire on him and ruin everything they had achieved thus far. The risk wasn't worth it. He had escaped Amanda's trap once. He knew not to tempt fate.

"As for the drones... I'll get them ready as soon as I can."

"There's no rush for them, Connor. Take your time and be thorough. You sure you don't need help?"

Connor took a moment to consider it. He nodded. "Okay. I'll take anyone you can spare."

Markus barely refrained from sighing. Connor needed learn when to ask for help. He didn't have to do all of this alone. "I'll send the Jerrys over in a few hours. They're good at tinkering with machines."

"The Jerrys?"

"You'll know them when you see them."

"I see. In that case, I'll start heading back to the Tower then. Take care."

After Connor left, North walked up to Markus and embraced him.

"Connor seems trustworthy, but he's kinda aloof, don't you think?" North said.

Markus shrugged. "Connor being Connor, I guess. My decision to elect him as one of the leaders will remain unchanged, though."

"I didn't mean it in that way. He freed thousands of androids from the CyberLife's warehouses. I don't doubt his loyalty."

"He just needs more time to adapt to the new world, like the rest of us," Markus replied. "Perhaps even more so, considering how young he is," he added as an afterthought.

North looked up at him in surprise. "His model... _is quite unique_. I don't think I have seen anyone like him. How old do you think he is?"

"No older than... four to six months, probably. Only Connor himself can give a definitive answer."

"He's _so young_... No wonder he looks so lost sometimes."

"We have all been through that at least once. Who's to say it won't happen again?"

North hugged him. "At least we have each other now."

Markus smiled back, leaning forward so that their foreheads met. "Yes, at least we have each other."

.

.

.

Connor didn't know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn't this.

"Greetings! My name's Jerry! All of us go by the same name, so uh, collectively, we're the Jerrys!" The android's energy was infectious - it spurred the other Jerrys in action, and soon, they all began introducing themselves using some variation of what Connor assumed was their typical introduction sequence. Connor took a step back to address them all at once.

"Hi. My name's Connor... It's nice to meet all of you. Did Markus brief all of you before he sent you over?"

One of the Jerrys went up to him, shaking his head. "No. Looking at all these drones here... Are we right to assume that we're going to be working on those?"

Connor noted with interest that the Jerrys referred to themselves as a single, cohesive unit. He ought to refer to them in the same way as well. "Yes. The drones need a bit of work before they're ready for use. I was going to set up the machinery downstairs to speed up modification, but since you guys are here..."

"The Jerrys would _love_ to help! We are _very good_ with machines! We used to run an amusement park. We performed all the maintenance work to keep it running. We kept at it even when the little ones stopped coming to see us."

Connor brought up his visual overlay to take a quick peek into his database for Jerrys' files, just to see what their assignment details were. Their assignments dated back seven years. They were decommissioned about four years ago, along with the closure of the amusement park, and were not assigned to be re-collected because of their obsolete models and parts. Dismissing the visual overlay, Connor felt a pang of what he could only describe as sorrow for these androids. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise. Had they been re-collected, they would not be standing here today.

"You look sad. Don't be sad! The Jerrys are here to help you now!"

Connor looked at all of them. Their ability to recognise emotion was highly-advanced, in spite of their dated hardware. "I'm not... sad."

"Yes, you are! We recognise that look on your face. For a long time, we were like that, too. We had almost given up hope that any little ones would come see us again. Then, one day, a little one showed up, could you believe it?" One of the Jerrys exclaimed. He did a little excited dance before rushing into his next words, "The little one looked... so sad, so lost. So we cheered her up by bringing the merry-go-round back to life so she could ride on it!"

"What happened to the little girl after that?" Connor asked, a part of him was dreading the answer he would hear.

Some of the Jerrys looked crestfallen. One of the Jerrys at the back spoke up. "The little girl and her family are safe now. They managed to cross the border to Canada. I saw them get on the last bus."

This revelation caused the other Jerrys to jump with joy, and hug each other. Connor stared at them, bewildered. One of the Jerrys came over and wrapped him up in a hug too.

"They're safe! They're safe! We were so worried..." they began saying, and Connor could only stand there and absorb it all in silence.

The aching hollowness in his chest grew. He felt the desire - _the need_ \- to run away and be alone, to think.

"A-Anyway, here's what you need to do for the drones..."

After briefing the Jerrys, Connor made his escape to one of the levels in the Tower - he didn't know which, and he didn't care. Surrounded by white walls and smooth metal, it filled him with a sense of comfort and familiarity. He caught his reflection in the glass and it made him wonder. How could the Jerrys pinpoint how he was feeling so easily? Was it that obvious in his expression? It didn't matter if there were any outward clues pointing to that particular emotion or not. It was far easier for him to see emotions in others than it was for him to see them in himself - it was the only logical conclusion he could arrive at.

Was he... _in denial_... about possessing emotions? Was that why he couldn't see? That he must have unconsciously tricked himself into not seeing? That didn't explain this strange emptiness in his chest, though. There were a lot of things he didn't have an explanation for.

First there was the question of how deviants came about in the first place. His own algorithms practically allowed him to evolve into this new mentality. It was almost as if the ability to evolve into deviancy was always there, dormant, until the right time came for it to trigger. Amanda had insinuated that the android uprising was one of the outcomes she'd expected from him, including his deviancy. Why?

This train of thought was dangerous, he knew. The more questions he asked, the stronger the temptation to access the Zen Garden. He still had access to it. Amanda most likely held the answers to these questions. He would never learn the truth until he confronted her again. There would probably come a time where he would have to face Amanda again. Before that time came, he needed to prepare.

He took the elevator down to level sub forty-one - Manufacture. He needed to perform a thorough analysis of RK900's bio-components to see if there were any clues he could find. Amanda must have changed something from the RK800 to the RK900. She wouldn't have kept his flaws and what was potentially a hidden, dormant program in the new model.

He set the program to work, and left. He had been gone for only about an hour. When he returned to the foyer, there was only chaos.

"Connor!" one of the Jerrys ran over to him. "H-Have you heard the announcement?" he said, on the verge of tears.

Connor's heart sank. His communicator wasn't on. He'd switched it off earlier when he left to be alone. "...What announcement?"

"Russia has entered war with the US."

**Author's Note:**

> [My Twitter - Writing Updates / General Updates](https://twitter.com/xyrilyn)


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